Ghost Train

Night Train.jpg

Jaques was sitting in the cockpit of the train looking forward. It was late night, and he couldn’t wait to get home. Find a good movie online, and just relax until he fell asleep.

Something strange could be seen in the distance. He stood up. At first he didn’t believe it, these things shouldn’t happen. But it was. Something was coming towards them on the tracks. Another train. It had no lights. He knew it was already too late.

Marie and Jerome had gotten a first class ticket. There was good food, and the seats was comfortable. They were sitting in front of each other. Jerome had gotten the better seat, the one facing the way they were going. An elderly lady was sitting beside him.

Finally! Said Jerome. I needed to get away now.

Me too, smiled Marie. This is going to be the best vacation ever!

Sure is. I love going on trains as well. Such a relaxing and safe way of travelling.

It’s not always safe, said the old woman. Jerome turned towards her. He had to concentrate not to laugh. Strange thing to say out of nowhere.

Why do you say that?

There was an accident here on this track many, many years ago. Said the old woman

Really? Answered Marie, ignoring the ridiculing look Jerome sent her.

Well, they say it wasn’t even an accident. She added.

What happened?

Two trains went opposite directions on the same tracks. They say it was an insurance scam. That the company did it on purpose, and they got away with it, too. Lots of people died.

That’s horrib….

Jerome fell forward. Marie’s food went flying. Suitcases were falling down from the luggage shelves.

Jaques was lying on the brake lever. Trains take a long time to stop. He was sure he was going to die.

Impact.

A man was throwing coal into an oven. His body was strange, like if they were crushed, ripped to pieces and put together again.

Time seemed to stop when Jerome was mid-air. Everything was changed. The wagon. The people. The furniture was older, the seats had leather cover. The walls were made of wood. A man and a woman were sitting in front of him where his girlfriend just had been. The man had a top hat on his head. His head was crushed, skin floating in the airs as textile under water. Bones sticking out. He was smiling. The woman by his side had a white dress. On some parts. One of her thighs could be seen. It was just a bone, broken into pieces.It was a horrible sight.

Reality came back. Like when you get your head out of the silence of the water. Jerome crashed into the seat in front. Marie’s food splashed out on her dress. The woman beside them fell on the floor. She screamed. Her arm was in a strange position, broken.

The train had stopped. Jerome looked over to the rest of the passengers. They were all as confused as him. The lady with the broken arm was moaning. Jerome was helping her up in her seat.

The driver came half falling into the wagon.

Did you see the…? He stopped. Their faces were as white as his. They’d all seen it.

Silence.

I guess we’ll have to get going, Jaques said after a while and went back into the locomotive. The train started slowly. Soon they were going again. No one spoke the rest of the journey.

http://www.everywritersresource.com/shortstories/ghost-train-by-grey-harlowe/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghost_train_(folklore)

His Grandpa’s Cabin

Prophetic Poetry

The little girl was standing in front of him. He couldn’t see her eyes. Her dark hair was hanging down in front of her pale face. She held a doll in her right hand. The doll’s eyes were torn out. It was hanging like a dead person. The girl made a sudden move with her head, threw her hair back. Fast. Her face. Twisted, strange, as if someone had hurt her, cut her. Destroyed her. She screamed.

They had found the house in the wilderness. Abounded and beautiful. With a bit of work they had cleaned it up well enough to stay there for some days. A rest until they would continue their journey.

In the basement they found a book. A small writing book, a note pad. Only one of the pages had text on it. The letters were chaotic, as written by a child.

Lonely nights and silence

Will they ever return?

Trapped and terrified

When time comes they will burn

Blood will run on wooden floors

Innocent lives… delight

The two who comes in through that door

this will be their night.

They joked about how it would be them, that there was a ghost or something. They did not know the horrible event that had happened in this place.

A little girl had been murdered by her parents. Fear had been the reason. Fear of a prophecy that never came true.

This night Janet and Morty had been lying in front of the fireplace. Janet fell asleep, and Morty went out to take a piss. Coming back in he saw the little girl. She was standing in the hallway.

Her face had a horrendous look in it’s red, beady eyes. Her scream was long, evil and in pain. She jumped at him faster than a beast. Bit his throat, pulling it out. Morty fell to the ground. Blood poured out of the wound and his mouth.

The scream woke Janet up. She ran out in the hallway, saw her boyfriend vomiting blood on the floor. A little girl sitting on top of him. The girl turned her head. An unnaturally fast movement. Her head was turned backwards. Blood were running down her cheeks. She jumped, or flew towards Janet. Janet fell backwards. She managed to throw the little girl into the fireplace. She screamed horrible screams as the flames devoured her. Screams of a little girl in pain and terror. Then she disappeared.

Janet ran over to her beloved boyfriend lying on the floor. He was dead. There was nothing she could do for him. She ran out the door as fast as she could and into the night. She stopped.

The little girl was standing in the yard. In front of her. In the tall grass. She stopped. Petrified. The little girl attacked. The sleeping birds awoke and flew from their trees far, far away.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_Poetry_Day

https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/267155-wasting-copper/

Tears of Blood

 

His Grandpa’s Cabin

his-grandpas-cabin

When they arrived at the cabin night had already fallen. The stars were shining bright, a falcate moon was slowly going down in the west. A small owl was calling in the deep darkness of the forest. The cabin was small and wooden, and even in the dark the place was beautiful.

This is amazing! exclaimed Claire. And so silent!

Come on, let’s go inside! said Thomas. It’s cold out here.

He found the key under the stairs, unlocked and opened the door. He went in, lit a candle. Claire followed. The cabin had only one room, small and cozy. There was a big fireplace in one corner, an open kitchen with closets and shelves, and a big old bearskin in front of the fireplace.

Who’s that? asked Claire, looking at an old photo on the wall. He seems sad…

Thomas looked up from the still unlit wood in the fireplace.

That’s my grandpa. He moved up here when my grandmother died. Soon after he committed suicide. They say he went crazy.

Claire was silent for a moment. I’m sorry, she said.

Don’t worry! It happened a long time ago, my mother was just a baby. She was raised by her aunt and uncle.

He looks handsome. She looked at Thomas with a teasing smile. Now I know where you’ve got it from! She gave him ha big kiss on the lips.

They were lying on a blanket over the bearskin, close to each other. The fire was warming their bodies and souls. It was perfect. Thomas loved Claire of all his heart. She was so good and gentle, and at the same time so beautiful, with a firm tight body, cute and sexy. There, in front of the fire, with her soft skin touching his, he felt incredibly lucky.

The fire was fading.

I’m going for some more wood. He gave her a kiss and got up.

Don’t be long! She lifted her short dress, letting her panties show.

Don’t worry, baby, he said. I’ll be right back. He went out of the door.

Claire fell asleep for a moment. She woke up to the gentle touch of Thomas’ hand, softer than ever.

Mmmmmh… she was loving it. A kiss in her neck, his hands moving up between her legs. The dress came off. Her panties. Kisses inside her thigh reaching her most intimate parts.  Licking her like he’d never done before. Entering her. Fucking her deeply until she came in an explosion of pleasure and emotion. Oh my god, Thomas… That was…

The door opened. Claire opened her eyes. Thomas entered, threw wood in front of the fireplace.

What..? But… You…

What’s up?

Nothing… It must have been a dream, said Clair confused, looking around the room. Her eyes stopped at the old photo on the wall. A cold shiver went down her spine. The young grandpa no longer looked sad. He was smiling a vicious smile.

I… no… it can’t be.

Thomas looked confused. It can’t be what?

Your grandpa… He raped me! He fucking raped me!

Thomas laughed. Then stopped. She looked terrified.

I thought it was you! Oh my God…!

My grandpa’s dead, Claire! Are you OK…?

No… yes… I… I don’t know. She got on her feet, pulling her dress down over her shoulders. Can we go home?

Home? Already? But…

Let’s go! Please!

If you want… But…Before he could say anything more she had gotten her bag and opened the door.

She was pulled back into the room. Aaaah!!! The door slammed shut. Thomas grabbed her arms. Pulling her. Something invisible were holding her back. Her legs got pulled up in the air.

It’s your grandpa!! He doesn’t want me to leave!!! Things started flying around the room. The fireplace flickered. Her dress got ripped off. Sparks and burning wood flew out of the fireplace. Lit the curtains. The furniture. Claire was screaming.

Let her go! shouted Thomas. Let her go, you old bastard! She’s my girlfriend! The whole room was on fire. The heat was unbearable.

The grip let go. They fell on the floor. Thomas got up, helped her on her feet. The roof was coming down. They got out of the door. A strange scream of pain and sadness was heard from the burning cabin. They ran to the car and drove off.

http://www.shortstories101.com/story/guises-of-the-reaper/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Popobawa

https://fictionspawn.com/2016/07/10/lords-of-the-dead/

Tears of Blood

skottfoss

Gundersen was watching his paper factory. It was all going very well these days. They had a lot of profit. He was getting rich. Very rich.

The workers kept complaining, though. Assholes. He had built a great factory they could work in, and all they ever did was whimper. Our children are hungry, they said. We can’t afford medicines. And with the accidents lately everything were getting more complicated.

A little girl died in the paper compressor just a few days ago. He was there. The image was burned into his mind. Half her body crushed. Her face. Swollen, with one of her eyes sticking out in a strange way, blood running down her cheeks like tears. He shivered. He didn’t want to think about it. Not that he really cared, workers could always be replaced. He just didn’t want to see it.

The workers lived on the other side of the factory building. The lower administrators was on the same side as him and the rest of the leadership, but on the other side of a big fence. They couldn’t have these people running around in the important people’s neighbourhood. They belonged with the workers, but still, it was better to keep them separated to keep things in order. He didn’t trust any of them.

Lately a shadow had been seen at night. Sneaking around between the houses. Some said it was a ghost, awaken by the immense misery in the workers quarters. Evil spawned out of suffering. Gundersen didn’t know. It didn’t really matter, either, as long as it stayed on the other side of the valley.

As he stood there on his small balcony watching the factory area he saw someone or something come out from between the factory buildings, running over the bridge crossing the river. It looked human but was limping in a strange way, like it was dragging something. Moving from side to side, wiggling, stopping, moving forward again. Creepy. It was coming towards his side of the valley, and disappeared in the darkness.

He went down to tell his butler to inform the guards. The butler was not there. Martin! He said. No answer. Martin, where are you? Strange, he thought. Where could he be? He picked up the phone. It was dead. Lazy phone operators.

He went over to the front door, opened it. Darkness. Dead silence. Something moved in the shadows. Who’s there? He said. No answer. He closed the door. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.

He went back upstairs, and looked out of the balcony window. The main factory gate was open.

He heard steps in the stairs behind him. Slowly. Each step was followed by a dragging sound. Moving up towards his floor. He turned around. Hello? he said. Who’s there? No answer. Answer me! He tried to sound dominant and tough, but could hear his voice weak and scared. The footsteps stopped at the top of the stairs. He stared. There was no one there.

Silence. Fear. A figure appeared in the darkness. Stood still for a moment. Charged at him with one leg hanging behind like a fell. Screaming a scream of hate and horror. The voice of a little girl. Tonight you die!!! A twisted face. One eye sticking out of it’s socket. Tears of blood running down her cheeks. She was changed. A glow of sinister revenge had replaced the coldness of her dead eyes.

She lifted him up and pushed him backwards. She was strong. The glass door broke. They fell off the balcony. His head hit the ground. He gained consciousness being dragged through the factory gate. Help! He screamed. Somebody help me!!! The girl was laughing. Giggling. Amused of his terror.

In the noise from the paper compressor no one could hear his screams.

http://firstindustrialrevolution.weebly.com/working-and-living-conditions.html

http://www.globalissues.org/article/57/corporations-and-workers-rights

https://fictionspawn.com/2016/08/04/the-witch-doctor/

Save

Save